


The Offering

by bluerose5



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Altar Sex, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Astral Projection, Blood, Elements of Hades and Persephone, M/M, Porn With Plot, Ritual Sex, Soul Bond, Switching, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerose5/pseuds/bluerose5
Summary: Connor, God of Springtime and Fertility, ventures to his lover's temple in the middle of the night, but he doesn't arrive empty-handed.He comes bearing a special gift for the King of the Dead.





	The Offering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some terminology:
> 
> >necromanteion- temple dedicated to Hades (or Markus, in this case)  
> >Erebus- primordial deity/personification of darkness  
> >peplos- a rich outer robe or shawl in ancient Greece, hanging in loose folds and sometimes drawn over the head  
> >himation- an outer garment worn by the ancient Greeks over the left shoulder and under the right
> 
> If I should add anything else, please let me know!
> 
> (UPDATE: I realized that I forgot to put each character and their respective roles. Please look in the end notes if you need to for that.)

Most days, Markus never understood the urge that some of his brethren had towards companionship.

Not that Markus hasn't ever felt attraction towards another person, mind you, but it just seemed like... a lot of work.

Understandably, being the king of the underworld —being the humans' "god of the dead"— keeps Markus busy enough. As North is so keen to remind him, his entire life revolves around his work, and he allows himself little time to play. To do so would mean to leave his post, and to leave his post for even a second would mean that he's behind on his work. Then he would never be able to relax, part of his mind always on the stresses awaiting him at home.

After millennia of dealing with his bullshit, North eventually had enough, practically kicking his ass up onto the surface while Josh and Simon giggled in the background.

Traitors.

But Markus figures that they  _are_ his judges.

Leaving them to run the underworld is a part of their job, so Markus has to diligently remind himself of that fact to this day.

Doesn't give him any less of a headache, knowing that those three are in charge, but it relieves his burdens long enough to unwind.

Speaking of unwinding...

Markus watches patiently from the night's shadows while a lone figure makes its way through the darkness, bearing a torch to guide his path.

Where his dirty feet touch Markus' otherwise barren ground, grass and flowers bloom in his wake, leaving an obvious trail behind, not even trying to hide his presence there.

Such a possessive, prideful display leaves Markus shuddering in the warm, summer night.

Had it been anyone else, Markus probably wouldn't have been so understanding about the desecration of his sacred grounds. Given his role in the cosmos, compared to that of his Olympian brethren, Markus receives so little attention from mortals and immortals alike. As things are, people fear him, his court, and his home, and humans completely avoid saying his name out of fear. Only the necromanteionstands as one of his major places of worship, and even then his number of followers could never come close to the mountain-dwellers'.

The Unseen One, they call him, because the Olympians could never fathom what it's like to do something beyond frolicking with the humans, causing mayhem and havoc among their worlds.

The humans, on the other hand, couldn't fathom why in the world a god would want to sequester himself away in the land of the dead, deprived of their blessed presence.

In the end, it doesn't matter anyways.

 _Everyone_  always end up in his kingdom, whether they like it or not.

So no, Markus never really entertained the idea of abandoning his duties, not when it involves bedding prideful humans or entertaining petty gods.

At least, that was until North kicked him out that one time.

And then he met  _him._

Connor. Son of Amanda. God of springtime, vegetation, and fertility.

Future king of the underworld.

At least, that's the hope.

Markus didn't think that he would ever find another being worthy of his time and effort, let alone someone worthy enough to lure him from his post.

Yet here he is.

Looking Connor over from head to toe, Markus nibbles at his lower lip, unable to keep his more unsavory thoughts at bay.

"Well, well, well..." he drawls, startling the wandering god. "What do we have here?"

Connor's torchlight cuts frantically through the darkness, revealing Markus in Erebus' warm embrace.

"Markus," Connor hisses, his brown eyes swirling with a glowing, golden flame. "Damn you to the Pit. Stop scaring me like that."

Upon hearing his name, one spoken so rarely outside of a select few, Markus doesn't even bother to try and hide his resulting shudder, wanting Connor to know exactly the effect he had on him.

Connor's eyes, still swirling with that otherworldly glow, instantly hone in on the movement.

"I can't help it," Markus taunts, a soft smile working its way upon his lips. "You make it too easy."

With that being said, Markus slowly drags his eyes over his lover's form, drinking in the whole display. It doesn't escape his notice how Connor purposefully approached his temple in a finely-crafted peplos _,_ the bold red a stark contrast against smooth, pale skin. Gold bands encircle his upper arms, and dark, brown curls spill lusciously from a matching crown, etched down to the finest details to form metallic flowers.

Narcissus, to be exact. Connor's favorites.

Watching while a tempting expanse of Connor's thigh peeks out from his clothing, Markus has to adjust his stance, his erection brushing the folds of his black himation _._

The shift of rocks beneath his leather-clad feet grates noisily against his ears, but Connor —the cocky, little shit— doesn't even have to look down to confirm what he already knows is there.

Smirking, he saunters forward with his head held high, maneuvering his torch so that he can lean into Markus' space. Like a magnet, Markus is drawn into his orbit, and their lips barely have time to brush together in greeting before Connor scampers away, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"'Make it too easy,' do I?" Connor questions, turning towards the temple without so much as a backwards glance. "I think you have me mistaken for yourself, love."

And like the easy god he is, Markus follows obediently, watching the hypnotic sway of Connor's hips, admiring the confident way in which he strides...

Mother Chaos, the things he wants to do to him.

The things he wants  _Connor_  to do to  _him_.

As they venture further into the temple, Connor stops only to light the sconces hanging on the walls, the flames emitting a white and blue glow upon contact. Farther and farther they go, until they eventually arrive at the main, sacrificial chamber.

While Connor lights the remaining sconces, Markus seals the doors, breathing in deeply as he reaches for the tether that ties to his realm. He cracks open the door just a smidge, and the very essence of the underworld comes flooding in, unseen to the casual eye.

Only the chosen known as the Chthonic can sense it. That subtle difference between this world and the next.

What never fails to surprise Markus is the fact that Connor —sweet, beautiful, earthbound Connor— can sense the change.

Lucy and the other Fates weren't lying when they cryptically explained how Connor's destiny lies beyond his realm of birth. Markus knows exactly how this story will end, and even Connor knows to a certain extent.

They only have one little issue, but the Lady of the Harvest cannot interfere with fate.

Connor will be with Markus. One day, somehow, he will take his place at his side.

Markus already has the throne prepared, elevated to the height of his own.

Stepping away from the large stone doors, Markus turns to watch while Connor mounts his torch on the wall, sticking his hand into the flame to grab a piece of it. Once he has a considerable portion nestled securely within his palm, he returns to the center of the room, where he steps down into a smooth depression.

There, he approaches Markus' altar, trembling when the underworld's murky essence finally curls its way along his calf.

Unlike the humans and the Olympians, however, Connor's aura simply adapts to its presence, weaving the essence into the very fibers of his being.

He kneels on the ground, low enough until he is hovering over the spread of supplies. The action only submerges him deeper within the misty swirls, and Connor has to brace himself when it becomes too much.

Markus parts his lips around a shaky exhale, low and silent.

"Did you cleanse yourself before your journey?" he asks.

Tossing the dark blue flame into the center pit, Connor quickly splays both of his hands onto the altar, breathless and dazed.

"Yes," he croaks, clenching his hands into tight fists. He refuses to give Markus the pleasure of such an easy victory, so he does his best to ignore his unsteady hands as he continues on, gathering the frankincense and myrrh from his satchel. "Hail to Rose, Lady of the Hearth." He speaks as he continues preparing the incense. Once it is properly set up, he spreads his hands out, closing his eyes while he lifts his face to the sky. "I call on you, Guardian of the Home. I ask of you now, bestow your blessing upon this ritual tonight."

The air around them freezes for a split second, then it shifts. Connor doesn't even need to open his eyes to see the fire briefly change colors, flickering from blue to orange and then back to blue again.

That seems to be answer enough, and Connor can only thank Mother Chaos in that moment for Rose. She has been extremely understanding and tight-lipped about his and Markus' budding relationship, going so far as to hide the secret from Amanda as well.

He doesn't deserve that level of loyalty from her. He has done nothing to earn it. In fact, she has known Amanda nearly all of her life, yet Connor would be a fool not to accept her grace and mercy.

He offers up his thanks and reaches once again for his satchel. This time, he takes out his ceremonial cup and dagger, along with a small jar of ambrosia. As usual, milk and wine still remain from the evening's earlier rituals, so Connor takes the time to lace both with his own store of nectar.

That's when he feels a presence at his back, kneeling in place behind him.

All it takes is one soft kiss to the neck, and Connor melts.

"You've let your beard grow out again," Connor rasps, not really complaining. Just stating the obvious.

Markus smirks against his skin, lathering it with messy, open-mouthed kisses that send heat rushing straight to his cock, searing his thighs in their wake.

A particularly nasty bite drags a moan from Connor's lips, but he can't even bother to be ashamed.

"M-Markus," he pants, but his lover isn't having it.

"What?" he chuckles, voice low and husky. "Didn't bring an offering? No black sheep to sacrifice?"

"No." Connor feels his heart start to pound when Markus reaches around him, unpinning the brooches that bear his crest. The top of Connor'speplos pools around his waist, exposing his chest to the warm air. Connor takes Markus' wandering hands and guides his fingers with his own, wanting nothing more than for his god to claim every single inch of him. To fuck him open on his cock, ruined for anyone else that so much as glances in his direction. "But I-I did bring an offering."

"Oh?" Markus tweaks at one of Connor's nipples, rolling it carefully between his fingers until it pebbles at his touch. "And what might that be?"

"Me," Connor murmurs, arching into Markus' rough hands with an appreciative sigh. "Will that suffice, my lord?"

"It will be more than enough," Markus says. He nuzzles affectionately beneath Connor's jaw, his breath ghosting against flushed skin. "Just make sure that they can hear you."

Connor doesn't need to ask which "they" he's referring to.

Mortals typically like to get as low to the ground as possible to communicate with the Chthonic, bowing and shouting into the dirt, banging their hands on the ground so that they are certain that they can hear.

Connor doesn't need to resort to such, but he has a feeling that he will be doing all that and more by the end of the night.

Inching out of Markus' grasp, he bites back a whimper at the cold sensation of loss. All around them, smoke and mist mingles in the air, some of it a result of the incense and the rest the result of Markus opening the door to the underworld.

Feeling Markus' gaze burning holes into his back, Connor ignores the sound of his needy grunts, followed closely by the slide of skin against skin.

"So fucking gorgeous." Markus chuckles low in his throat. "Maybe you should make sure they hear me instead."

Connor keeps his eyes trained carefully forward, trying his best to sound indifferent. "Either way, you  _will_  wait until I'm done." Without waiting for a response, Connor ensures that the smoky mixture stretches from wall to wall before he recites the next part of his spiel. "Let this incense cleanse all that it touches. Bring good to the space that it occupies, and leave the bad where it does not."

Connor then pours a generous serving of wine into the ceremonial cup, placing the tiny pot of ambrosia at its side.

He picks up the ornate dagger off of the altar and positions his palm over the edge of the stone.

"I call on the Gods of the Chthonic, most glorious spirits and deities, not of this world, but the next." He digs the tip of the blade into his palm, a lone drop of ruby red blood beading towards the surface. "Attend this rite and bear witness."

He performs a clean slice through the middle of his palm, and the sounds behind him only quicken when Connor sets the dagger aside, holding a tight fist above the altar.

A hot, steady stream of blood drips onto the edge, flowing over and onto the floor.

Connor simply focuses on what remains on the altar. Between one second and the next, his wound is healed, yet he still uses his other hand to draw one of his personal sigils into the stone, written in his blood.

A pretty bold claim, if Connor ever saw one, but Markus doesn't dare stop him from doing so.

If anything, the air seems to thicken impossibly more, nearly choking Connor in its wake.

But he stubbornly trudges on, despite the desperate moans that rattle his ears.

Or the sound of rustling fabric falling to the floor.

It takes the literal strength of a god to stop himself from interrupting the ritual, just to pound Markus' needy ass straight into the ground.

The stone might not be the most comfortable against his skin, but they've been together in worse places.

Shuffling away, Connor leans forward until his forehead touches the ground, his palms caressing the stonework. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes, and flashes of an entirely different world fog his mind.

 _Deep breaths, Connor. Deep breaths_.

"I call on Markus Pluoton," he whispers, his lips wrapping around his name like a warm embrace. Through his hazy thoughts, he can hear Markus give the briefest gasp, and flashes of his thoughts filter into Connor's. Flashes of their naked bodies wrapped around each other, Connor splayed out across his bed, his hair a mess, eyes rolled back while sharp thrusts jostle his body.

Connor takes a few deep breaths, refusing to let Markus get to him.

What a shame that others fear to say his name, though. He responds so beautifully when he hears it.

Connor clears his throat before he tries again. "I call on Markus Pluoton. King of the Underworld, God of the Dead, Bringer of Wealth and Riches." Connor feels tender fingers trail over his spine, but he remains stubbornly in place, feeling his cock stir more and more with each and every touch. His next breath comes out as little more than a wrecked mess.

"Hear my summons," Connor commands, "and accept the offerings that I have relinquished into your possession." Markus' fingers falter at that, and Connor smirks to himself, pressing further into Markus' touch. "Take the body before you as you see fit, for I am your willing servant." His voice drops to a low, teasing whisper. "Just as you are mine."

Connor knows that he is pushing his luck. Had Markus been any other deity, Connor would have probably been cast into the Pit by now as punishment for his multiple offenses.

But Markus isn't just any god.

He not only takes Connor's blasphemy in stride, but he embraces it.

Connor ends off as he always does. With the only promise that makes all of this matter.

"Claim my humble—" Markus snickers at that, causing Connor to huff at his interruption. "—spirit as your own, for the Fates have shown it to be true." Each successive heartbeat swells painfully within his chest. His entire body fills with the utmost reverence, and his throat closes up as his emotions overwhelm him. "Our paths will eventually merge, and one day, we shall be wed."

"And you will rule at my side," Markus promises, urging Connor into an upright position.

Connor's delicate lashes flutter against his cheeks, and Markus waits patiently in awe while big, brown eyes focus in on him. Through the room's thick veil of fog, muted light reaches out for them longingly, barely able to illuminate the area around them.

Markus caresses his cheek, his jaw... trailing his thumb across parted lips.

Markus leans in, and Connor presses forward.

Only this time, he doesn't pull away. Instead, he presses deliciously closer, his hand wandering over Markus' heart.

Even now, it's not close enough.

For Markus, he doesn't think such a thing will ever exist, not when it comes to Connor at least.

The lushness of Connor's mouth is intoxicating, invigorating, and Markus finds himself selfishly begging for more.

His clothes forgotten, crown resting lopsided on his head, Markus takes the last piece off and tosses it to the side, utterly bare.

He doesn't want to approach Connor as King of the Underworld.

He wants to be with him as Markus. No more, no less.

When Connor tries to take off the rest of his clothing, however, Markus captures his hands, pulling away from the kiss with a breathless pant.

"No," he rasps, diving back into their kiss. "Keep it on." Connor moans against his mouth, and Markus whimpers, pleading and desperate. That noticeably alters the demanding tone he tries for. "I want you to fuck me, Connor."

"Thought that I was the offering," Connor chuckles, stretching his neck out on display while Markus returns to worshiping his neck, leaving eager, juvenile marks in his wake.

"Then do as I say," Markus snarls, lifting Connor up into his arms in an impressive show of strength.

He then slams Connor on his altar in his excitement, causing all of their supplies to tremble from the blow.

Markus bunches the fabric of Connor's peplosup around his waist, exposing his throbbing cock to the warm air.

Staring heatedly at Connor with full-blown pupils, Markus' once mismatched eyes are now black with hunger, echoing the endless darkness that stretches on into his realm.

Connor sighs when Markus begins to kiss along his thighs, his stomach tensing with each teasing pass around his dick.

"I—" Connor groans when his lover's beard pricks against his skin. "I hope that you plan on putting that mouth to actual use."

Markus grins wickedly, black eyes trained solely on Connor. All attention on him.

"My mouth has many uses," Markus taunts, kissing the tip of his straining erection.

Connor bucks wildly beneath him, but Markus pulls away in the nick of time, just enough for Connor's flesh to bump against his chin.

With a frustrated snarl, Connor wraps his hand around the nape of Markus' neck, but the older god refuses to budge.

"Then how about you talk a little less," Connor suggests, "and show me."

Markus quirks an eyebrow at him. "Is that an order?"

"It certainly isn't a question," Connor mutters, gritting his teeth when Markus wraps a strong, calloused hand around him, thumbing at the precum leaking from his tip.

"Mother Chaos, how I've missed you," Markus says. Connor doesn't have much time to respond, however, before Markus is wrapping his lips carefully around his tip.

Connor swallows a whimper, biting hard into his bottom lip.  _"Fuck."_

Markus eyes him lovingly, desire swimming in that deep, dark gaze.

His thoughts invade Connor's own, repeating but one word in a neverending daze.

_Mine._

Markus slowly starts to bob his head up and down, splitting his lips open around Connor's dick.

Connor starts to play with his poor, neglected nipples, sending sparks shooting down his spine in response, dragging his nails down his chest. Heat boils beneath the surface of his thighs, and he pinches harder at the rosy buds, eliciting a sweet, sweet mix of pleasure and pain to rise to the surface.

Markus hollows his cheeks, taking Connor abruptly down to the base.

"Shit!" Connor whines, fucking into his slick, warm mouth.

Markus' hands dart up then. They take a firm hold of Connor's hips and stop him from moving, holding him in place.

"No, no, no..." Connor shakes his head frantically. "What are you doing?"

 _Say it,_ Markus demands, releasing the cock from his mouth. "You want me to continue? Better start getting louder than that."

Connor glowers. "You—"

Markus cuts Connor off by cupping his balls, kneading them thoroughly within his grasp. Connor bites down on a knuckle to keep his noises at bay, and Markus  _tsk_ s at him in disappointment.

"Come on, my love. Just tell me what I want to hear."

As if Connor would surrender his pride so easily.

"Fuck you," he snaps, and the chuckle Markus gives is downright sinister.

"Isn't that the plan?" he asks, and Connor merely growls in frustration. "Say it."

"Damn it," Connor hisses. Alright, so maybe he would surrender that easily. "I'm yours, okay? I'm all yours, Markus, so  _act like it_."

Markus simply plants a satisfied kiss on his weeping head, swallowing him whole without warning.

"O-Oh..." Connor's hands clench down onto the altar, and the stone splits open beneath his fingertips, little web-like cracks crawling their way away from his grasp.

 _Careful,_ Markus warns, his inner voice sounding way too smug for Connor's liking.

In retaliation, Connor digs his heels into Markus' scar-ridden back as way of punishment, but Markus only hums in response.

That makes heat shoot through Connor's veins.

Okay, enough is enough.

"Up," Connor says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The command snaps out, sharp and crisp, and Markus startles into submission. He drags off of Connor before he can get truly started, his lips swollen and slick.

Connor slides off of the altar, shedding his peplos but keeping his crown in place. He pinches Markus' chin, and their lips meet with renewed fervor, each breath shared as one.

Beyond the intoxicating fog blanketing their minds and bodies, Connor feels a nudge wiggling into place under his skin. Goosebumps follow in its place, and Connor accepts the bond for what it is, feeling Markus' spirit settling in alongside his own.

Connor moans, unable to distinguish where he starts and Markus ends.

He just—

The ritual. Right. They have to finish the ritual.

Connor reaches back for the cup and offers it forward. Markus covers his hands with his own, and they both maintain eye contact while he drinks.

Connor's voice trembles, more so than his grasp.

"From this table, I bring you drink and sustenance." Connor boldly drinks from the cup himself, claiming Markus' offering as his own. He sets it aside only once he takes his fill, then he dips into the jar, returning with a generous portion of ambrosia coating his fingers. "So that we may partake in its pleasures together."

At that, Markus grabs Connor's wrist, dragging his tongue over Connor's fingers, sucking them into his mouth until they come back clean.

 _You were supposed to share,_ Connor mentally chastises, amusement coloring his tone.

 _I have every intention to,_ Markus reassures him. They reunite with a slow, breathy kiss, and Markus delves deeper, his tongue finding Connor's with an explosion of flavor.

And when Connor trails his hands over Markus' shoulders, Markus maneuvers around him, brandishing the dagger in his hand. The cool metal teases at the notches of Connor's spine, and nearly all of his hairs stand on end.

 _Trust me?_ Markus asks.

Connor presses closer, unafraid.  _With my life._

Markus feels his face contort. He feels his eyes burn and his heart throb. All of a sudden, it's like a weight is bearing down on his chest, and he can't breathe.

He might have companions in the underworld. People who he consider friends and family.

Not once has he ever felt this before. This pressing, insatiable need.

The need to be with Connor.

The need to love him.

Markus puts some distance between their bodies, slicing through his palm without hesitation.

He lets his darker-tinted blood trail down his hand, coating his fingers in its slick heat. The knife clatters noisily to the ground, long forgotten, and Markus leans forward to trace his sigil alongside Connor's, their patterns overlapping. He forces a surge of energy into them both, and they come to life with a low, golden glow.

As his skin threads together, Markus brings his palm to Connor's cheek, whispering his promise with the utmost reverence.

"Connor Pluoton. Lord of Springtime, Master of the Bounty, and of Fertility..." Markus smiles tenderly as he nuzzles into his palm, tracing the seam of his lips with his thumb. "King of the Underworld." Markus watches, entranced, while his entire body starts to take on that otherworldly glow, his eyes overtaken with a burning, golden fire. Markus' light in the darkness. "Take the mind, body, and soul before you as your own." Connor's eyes snap open in shock searching Markus' frantically. He blinks owlishly, but Markus insists. "Bind me to you for our eternity."

"Markus—" Connor whimpers.

He interrupts him before he can shatter his heart. "Make love to me." He edges forward, plastering himself to Connor's naked body, needy and desperate. "My light, I will beg."

Connor instantly shakes his head. "Don't. Don't do that."

Markus slides the crown free, burying his fingers deep into soft strands. "I want you."

Connor turns them around. He helps Markus settle on the altar, bringing his hips toward the edge.

When Connor starts to trail kisses from his chest to his neck, Markus gasps, "I love you."

Connor pauses for a brief second of disbelief, but he's back to himself within the blink of an eye, sinking his nails deep into Markus' thighs.

"Gods above, but I love you too," Connor sighs.

He reaches briefly for another jar he brought along, coating his fingers in the concoction that North taught him to make.

It makes his fingers tingle and heat upon contact with his skin, and Connor sends a brief prayer of thanks to the goddess.

While he watches Markus quake before him, his grip worsening the damage Connor left behind, Connor reaches between them to spread Markus open. His tight ring of muscle clenches down instinctively when he's exposed to the air, and Connor hums while he circles a patient finger around his rim.

"Relax," he murmurs, probing at his entrance with his middle finger.

Markus chuckles at the absurdity of it all, closing his eyes as the misty fog caresses every single inch of his body.

"Hard to do when you're so intimidating." Markus catches his eye, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip when Connor slides his finger past the band of muscle.

He searches and searches.

Eventually, he finds what he's looking for, applying pressure to the spot. With enough stimulation, Markus bucks uncontrollably, a wild moan slipping free.

Connor continues to work him over, eyes trained intently on his face, searing the image into his mind for later.

He adds another finger and preps him some more, sighing in relief when he encounters less resistance.

As soon as he's ready, Connor gives himself a few, quick strokes, just enough to slicken his cock.

Dragging Markus' hips forward even more, Connor lines himself up with his entrance, leaning forward to brace himself.

Each inch forward drives Markus mad with desire. Connor eases in oh so slowly, so Markus throws his thighs around Connor's waist, yanking him forward roughly by his hair to get another taste of his lips.

 _So greedy,_ Connor teases with a grin, but he refuses to pull away, not wanting to miss even a second of this.

 _I love you,_ Markus chants, mindless with desire and admiration.  _Love you._ His thoughts turn to mush when Connor bottoms out, and a loud whine breaks free.  _So much, so much, so much..._

 _Shh..._ Connor shushes him, a thin sheen of sweat working its way up onto the surface of his skin.  _I got you, my love._

Markus pulls away and nods into his throat. Senseless mumbles fall free into the space between them, and Markus throws his head back with a shaky yell when Connor pulls all the way out, only to thrust back in with brutal force.

"C-Connor," he breathes. His nails crawl forward, leaving an array of angry red scratches in his wake. "Mine."

"I'm yours," Connor agrees, laying a tender kiss on his temple. "And you're mine."

"Yes," Markus says, his hips rocking forward in an uneven rhythm.

Connor can't even find it in him to care. This, them together... it's not what most would consider a perfect union by any means. The stone digs into Markus' back, and Connor's knees are sure to be scraped. Their sweat coats them in a sticky layer, and Connor hastily apologizes when a drop or two falls into Markus' face.

They both simply laugh through it into their kisses, and even those become clumsier with each desperate thrust. Too much teeth or tongue, but it all works.

It might be messy. It might be imperfect.

But Connor wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

He grips Markus' cock and gives him a few sharp strokes.

He nudges forward with his soul, mimicking Markus' earlier actions as they seamlessly intertwine.

With a cry of Connor's name, Markus cums into his fist, not even noticing when the building gives one long, lingering shudder.

He collapses onto the altar, laying there silently while Connor uses his body, his nerve endings open, raw, and abused.

Their lips seal together one last time as Connor spills into him, whispering a soft "I love you."

Connor's hand then settles over their sigils, embedding it with his own essence.

Markus tries his best to catch his breath while he watches. The stone cracks open over the symbols, and lush green life emerges from the slit.

Once he is able to, Markus nods at the growing plant, curious about their creation. "What will it become?"

Connor shrugs nonchalantly. He slides out and momentarily watches while his cum leaks free from Markus' body, helping him down and into his arms.

"A pomegranate tree," he answers, eyeing it thoughtfully. "It won't survive in here long, not without some help at least."

Markus trails his hand down Connor's arm. "Good thing that I know someone."

"Oh?" Connor raises an eyebrow, smiling joyfully. "Well, I hope your 'someone' knows that that might require daily upkeep." Connor's expression suddenly turns thoughtful, so he averts his eyes, picking at the cracks in the altar. "Unless..."

"Unless...?" When Connor doesn't meet his eyes, Markus takes his hand, bringing it to his lips. "You know you can tell me anything."

Connor nods, but what he's considering...

It's madness.

Madness, but the only way.

Markus is worth the risk, and it _is_ Connor's choice in the end.

He's about to screw everything up, but all he needs is one moment to change it all.

All he needs is for Markus to take his eyes off of him for one second. Easier said than done.

Breathing in deeply, Connor lets it out in one full stream of words.

"Takemewithyou."

Markus blinks at him in disbelief.

Then he realizes that Connor is serious.

"Wait, what?" Markus searches his gaze, trying to pinpoint where this all was coming from. "Connor, I—"

Only Connor is way beyond excuses at this point.

The words are meant to hurt, but Connor is running out of time and patience.

How long until Amanda has him completely cut off from Markus entirely?

He can't chance it.

"So what?" Connor snaps, shoving him away to put some distance between their bodies. Connor crosses his arms over his chest, turning his attention elsewhere. All he needs is one look at Markus' agonized expression, and he will break. "All of those pretty words earlier were what? Something to placate me? To keep me running back into your arms?"

Connor knows that they weren't, and it pains him to say it.

All he needs is tonight in the underworld.

Find something to eat while Markus sleeps, and he's bound.

Getting there is the hard part, which is the only reason why Connor is willing to go through with this.

As expected, Markus panics.

"No," he gasps, scrambling after Connor, who coldly snatches away from his grasp. Markus reels at the sudden change in attitude, placing both of his hands on the back of his head in distress. "No, Connor, my love, my light, I love you. I do."

Connor hates himself for it, but he knows that Amanda has been growing angrier with his continued rebellion.

There's no telling how far she'll go to keep him here.

"Then prove it," Connor sneers, turning to Markus with sorrow in his heart. "You offer yourself up to me. You give me your name, yet  _I am still here_." Connor stares pointedly at the smoke that curls on the floor, following its path until he senses the direction of the doorway, left ajar for him to see. "Take me with you tonight, or else."

"'Or else' what?!" Markus shrieks, wondering where all this was coming from.

Connor doesn't give him the chance to figure it out, dishing out his ultimatum.

He only hopes that this doesn't cost him everything.

"Or else I'm leaving you," Connor says, steady and even, hiding it for the lie that it is.

Markus simply stares at him in disbelief, his hand settling over the center of his chest, trying to ease the pain in his heart.

For quite some time, the two gods stare at each other, neither one knowing quite what to say.

When Connor makes no move to take his words back, however, Markus steels himself, glancing towards the entrance of his home.

Without a word, he stands carefully, as if he is frail, doing his best not to fall apart into pieces.

He silently goes to collect his clothes, so Connor prepares for the worst, watching him redress.

What he doesn't expect is for Markus to bring him his own attire, holding out a hand to help him up. Connor takes it readily, and Markus stares deeply into his eyes, parting his lips thoughtfully.

Looking over his shoulder, Markus stares at the open door, then nods resolutely to himself.

"Dress yourself," he says, handing over Connor's possessions with the utmost care.

He gathers up the rest of Connor's things while he dresses, and he manipulates the air around them, a light blue flame appearing within the palm of his hand.

Markus smiles lovingly when Connor appears at his side, his thoughts promising forgiveness for what's to come.

Because, on some level, he already knows what Connor has planned tonight.

And he won't be interfering.

Markus offers his hand to his husband, and the other king settles his within his grasp.

Together, they face the entrance.

"Let's go home," Markus whispers.

And neither one looks back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! Feel free to let me know what you think.
> 
> (Also, I might have to clean this up a bit later, but it'll stay as it is for now.)
> 
> Characters/Deity:
> 
> Markus/Hades  
> Connor/Persephone  
> Amanda/Demeter  
> Rose/Hestia  
> Josh/Thanatos  
> North/Hecate  
> Simon/Charon  
> Lucy, Kara, Chloe/The Fates
> 
> I think that was all for this chapter, so I'll add the others next time.


End file.
